#cop whump

31st thinks in pieces. I'm an ugly mofo now. Wire cutters. The smell of his burnt hair accumulates under the ceiling. They cut things. Pain accumulates in his body, even where he wasn't hurt. He's gonna cut something. He's delirious, but not delirious enough to give up. 

“Got you good, eh?” he breathes out. 

Dumbest self-defence mechanism, utterly suicidal. Sergeant would have beaten his ass for being so reckless. Sergeant never got anywhere near Muzzle's lair. The spoon. What the fuck is the spoon for?

“You? You got me good?” Muzzle shakes his head in disbelief. He spins 31st over, grabs his hands and clips off a pinky without warning. 

After everything, the pain isn't even that bad. 31st doesn't quite understand why he's shaking so hard. Maybe Muzzle's right about the sense of loss.

“This was an introduction.” Muzzle throws the finger away, and only then does Domenic register how thickly the floor’s painted with his blood. “Next I'll chop your thumb off, try holding a gun then.”

Domenic coughs. “Moron. I use neurocontrolled gauntlets.”

Muzzle does as he said. A terrifying sense of emptiness hits hard. It's irreversible, and it makes 31st want to mourn. He trembles and it takes him a few seconds to realize he's tearing up again. Doesn't matter. 31st uses the remains of his hand to give Muzzle a middle finger. 

The asshole clips it too and walks out without saying anything. Domenic hangs kneeling, listening to blood droplets tapping quietly on the floor behind his back. He can't stop shaking. He can't tell if he's sobbing or not. 

Muzzle comes back with a suit and a bowl of ice. “I can put them in the ice, you know. They can still be sewn back if you don't waste much time. Give me the override code, and I'll let you walk away with your fingers.”

“God, I want to…” 31st can barely hear himself, and what he's hearing sounds pitiful. “But you know I can't.”

Muzzle cuts off the other thumb, making both of Domenic's hands dysfunctional now. Pain grows slowly, merging from cut to cut. He can feel his pulse in the wounds. 

He stands up again. “Make it even,” he dares Muzzle and gives him another middle finger. 

Instead, Muzzle cuts off the tip of his ear. This stings more and he hisses. Blood comes running down his neck. The tool is so quick and efficient, 31st begins truly fearing it. He thought he was afraid before, now he really is. He flinches when Muzzle clanks it in the air behind his back. He tenses when Muzzle touches his hand. Muzzle seems to notice the shift. 

“Well-well, who would’ve thought. You're OK with getting burned, but this little thing suddenly works?”

“Come on,” Domenic begs soundlessly, “Get it over with, just fucking chop them all and end this.”

“Are you asking? I can’t hear you asking.”

31st fights himself in silence.

“The code, and we call it a night.” Muzzle presses. I'll let you go, for real.”

“Ah, fucking hell…” it was easier when he thought he'd die here. Putting the tracker, locking the suit, telling himself he needs to hold, all this time the bug at the back of his mind was whispering that he dies today. 

And now, with the prospect of actually getting away? 

31st stands silently for ten long seconds, mourning his hands’ capability and then replies: “No.”

Muzzle doesn’t hesitate. One by one he cuts off all the remaining fingers and drops them on the dirty floor. By the end of it Domenic is ugly crying. Why? Why the fuck, of all things today, this one got to me? 

Muzzle takes the blow torch and fries one of the pinkies. The smell pulls a voiceless wheezing moan out of 31st.

“So. What do I do with the rest of them? The code and I ice them. No code and I fry them. And don’t fucking feed me the false code, I’ll be testing it right in front of you.”

“Please,” he squeezes out of his throat. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Muzzle’s face lights up as he grabs another pinky. He pauses for a moment, unclips the radio off of Domenic’s cheek and turns it off.

“This seems to be the right moment to stop our little live stream. You were saying?”

“I’m so fucking tired Muzzle…”

“Good. Good! The code then?”

Tears run down his face freely. “No.”

“No? Again? Bitch, I thought you found some common sense?”

“S… sike…” it took him so much strength to say this word.

Muzzle sighs. “That’s alright. The uglier your corpse arrives at your daddy’s, the better.”

“You were going to… let me go.”

“You were going to give me the code.” Muzzle’s voice hardens as he fries the pinky.

“No, please, please.”

“Code.”

“Please!”

“Code.”

Finger after finger gets destroyed forever. Time after time Domenic keeps the code. A sinkhole of grief in the middle of his chest soaks up all his hopes, leaving only duty and loyalty afloat. He swore his oaths when joining law enforcement. Everyone did, but he thinks he’s the only one who still believes in them. They wouldn't be calling him an idealistic baby if it wasn’t for his loyalty to the oaths.

If it wasn’t for his loyalty, Muzzle would have been breaking into MPD wearing the suit. 

The last finger dies in fire. Domenic feels crushed but surprisingly clear-headed. “What now?” he asks. His words are soundless and Muzzle leans forward to read his lips. “Nothing more to th…reaten me with.”

“You know what else won't grow back, June?“

“Your…authority.” 

A lazy slap comes. 

“Your teeth.” Muzzle says, playing with the pliers. 

This is scary. 31st expects it to hurt more than fingers. “Get this one first, it’s broken.” he whispers with a crooked smile and opens his mouth. Another tiny claw of desperate wit that he uses to drag out his courage.

Loss, and pain, and fear, all come together screaming inside him, as he cannot scream himself. The tooth clacks on the floor. This new pain feels so close to Domenic’s brain. His whole head aches inside and out.

“The code?”

He has to hold. He must. Yes, his team is eventually coming here. And yes, he probably won’t get to see them. But where's the guarantee the gang won’t relocate the suit? They’ll wanna try to crack it, and this place doesn’t look like it has a proper lab. The suit stays close to the tracker as long as Muzzle thinks he can get the code from 31st.

“No.”

Muzzle reaches for a molar. 31st realizes just how firmly human teeth can sit in the bone. He wants to cry it out, but a long, hoarse breath is all he’s got. Gangster’s sleeve is wet and red.

“Hey, Muz.” Consonants whistle in a weird new way. “How am I to tell you the code if I can't articulate it?”

Muzzle grabs him by the jaw and clips the pliers on another tooth. “You’ll figure it out,” he says and pulls.

An aching gap in his gum tastes like metal. Another wave of violent shivers sends a stabbing pain in Domenic’s shoulders. Each time you bother a dislocated joint, you complicate the healing, he remembers from the first aid lecture. He kicks his legs in a bloody puddle, searching for balance. Muzzle elbows him in the back and laughs, watching him drop. What healing, you idiot. You’re dead.

Muzzle yanks him up by the jaw again, pliers open like a hungry crocodile. 

“Alright… Okay… The code…” 31st lets out.

“Finally! See? I told you, everyone breaks.”

Domenic holds a long pause before speaking. “401-223-ypu.”

Muzzle taps him on the top of the head, then wipes his hand on Domenic’s clothes. He rushes to the suit, happy as a kid unwrapping a birthday gift. “Four… Ow-One…Two-Two-Three…Y-P-U… Aaaand…”

“Stasis mode: active. Insert the override code to unlock. Two attempts left.”

“What the fuck is this?” Muzzle kicks 31st in the chest with full force. 31st swings away, spinning, and back to Muzzle. Back to another brutal bootkick. The gangster takes the knife again, catches Domenic by the chopped ear and slices it off, leaving it attached by a small strand of skin. Then he pulls it downward, tearing it through the skin of Domenic's neck, and rips it off.

The pain is unbearable. The pain is everywhere. The pain is… too much. Just too fucking much.

“No, no, no, sorry… please no… It’s 233, not 223…”

“You know what happens if you lie again?” Muzzle waves Domenic’s ear in front of his eyes, a long tail of skin still attached to it. The ear looks like a newborn mouse.

“It’s 233! Please! I just wanna die, ok? I want it to be over!” Domenic sobs and rushes out his words. “Just take the fucking suit and end me, please!”

Muzzle measures him with a long, attentive gaze. 31st is a teary mess. 

Muzzle gets back to the suit and slowly taps in the digits.

“Stasis mode: active. Insert the override code to unlock. One attempt left.”